An Android Dog's Tale (29 page)

“Sing us a tune!” a voice from the crowd
shouted.

The benign smile never slipped from the
Listener’s face. “The tune that can be sung is not the Cosmic Tune.
The dance that can be danced is not the Cosmic Dance,” he said as
if quoting. In the ensuing silence, he paused for a deep breath. “I
hear Harmony here, although with a few sour notes, perhaps.” His
glance shifted unerringly to the young villager who spoke earlier,
which caused others to laugh, if a bit nervously.

“I have been sent to invite you and others I
may pass in my travels to participate in a herding event that will
take place at our monastery in a few weeks. The reason for this,
other than to meet you and have people from different villages join
together in one place and one time in peace and harmony, is because
our old building needs a new roof.”

He went on to explain that the project
required funding and that they were holding the herding event to
raise it. Half of the entrance fee would go to the winner and the
other half to the monastery for their new roof. He briefly
described the contest—a trial of dogs and handlers to be judged by
the monastery’s senior monks, their Wise Ones. He also said there
would be food and entertainment available, which seemed to excite
several people. Humans, MO-126 noticed, tended to find comfort in
routine, but people also liked a break from it from time to time.
The event the Listener described was probably the biggest diversion
anyone here ever heard of or even imagined before. The monks were
likely to get a good turnout.

After answering questions from a few
villagers, he turned one more look toward the android dog as if
wondering what he was.

MO-126 stared back at him. If there’s
anything odd here, he thought, it’s you. I’m just a dog. I have the
fur and the tail and a complete lack of useful thumbs, see? I can
say “woof” in seven different canine dialects. All normal dog
stuff. I’m not the one who’s been talking about cosmic tunes and
harmonies and a bunch of other mystical musical stuff. Then, he
reconsidered. He might be being a bit too sensitive, maybe even
paranoid. The Tsong Listener was probably just estimating his
potential as a contestant. Maybe he was making bets on the side, or
something. Or perhaps MO-126 simply looked too intelligent for a
normal dog. He could correct that oversight. He lifted a hind leg
to scratch an imaginary itch and, for good measure, bent double to
do a bit of undignified licking.

“What do you think, Doggy?” Kolby asked him.
He always called MO-126 ‘Doggy.’ The kid really possessed no
imagination, but the android dog liked him. He found him cute in a
homely sort of way, nice to his granny, and he usually meant well.
The android dog considered him one of the better examples of
humanity, someone who would help if he could and not bother anyone
if he could help it.

It actually did not sound like a bad idea.
MO-126 felt confident he could do well in a sheep herding
competition, and money was almost as good as sheep or goats because
it often could be traded for them or other things with real value.
The entry fee presented the immediate difficulty.

As it turned out, this might not be as big
of a problem as he expected.

After the monk left, Gumper subjected the
android dog to a long, calculating stare, and then turned to
Kolby.

“You think your dog can win this?” he
said.

“I’m sure he can,” the boy said.

“Yeah. I think so too. Here’s what we’ll
do….”

Gumper volunteered to pay the ten copper
pieces required for entry for half interest in the prize money
should MO-126 win or extra work without pay from Kolby if he
didn’t. It was hardly a generous offer, but it got them the coins
they needed.

Twenty days later, Kolby, Gumper, MO-126 and
people from villages all around the area gathered outside the Tsong
monastery. Lines of tents, carts, stands, crude booths, and parked
wagons from which the owners peddled their wares created temporary
roads where hundreds of people mingled and shopped. Game agents and
vendors called out what they offered in imaginative and enticing
ways over the general din. Smokey clouds lingered above outdoor
cooking pits, and the smells of charred meat and sweaty people
filled the air.

“Close your mouth, boy,” Gumper said.
“You’re letting flies in.”

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Kolby
said, slack-jawed and wide-eyed, trying to take it all in. “Where
did all these people come from? Why are they here?”

“I suspect most came to watch the herding
event.”

MO-126 did not entirely agree. Most, he
suspected, came to watch other people, which were, he must admit,
somewhat more entertaining than sheep. He saw a few people with
well-behaved dogs beside them, but most of those wandering among
the makeshift businesses were accompanied only by other people,
usually in groups of the same gender eyeing other groups of the
opposite gender with varying degrees of subtlety.

Gumper asked a vendor trying to sell him a
sausage on a stick where contestants for the sheep herding event
needed to register. The hopeful purveyor of the greasy delectable
used it to point in the general direction of the large stone
monastery.

“Up there,” he said. “Them singing monks
have a shed painted in black and white stripes where they’re taking
names and coins. Can’t miss it. Sure you don’t want a sausage?
Fresh! Make you a deal. How about three for the price of two? Can’t
beat it.”

“Maybe later. We need to take care of this
first.”

“Might be all sold out by then. They’re
going fast,” the man persisted.

MO-126 wished he could tell them what the
odor suggested was in the sausage, but it proved unnecessary.
Gumper turned away and Kolby followed, leaving the sausage man free
to accost another prospective customer.

A young monk, several of which wandered
about the fair, approached them and asked if they were here for the
trials. He reconfirmed what the sausage seller said and pointed to
a line of colorful flags visible above the crowds and stalls.

A short queue of people and dogs stood in
front of the black and white shed. MO-126 suddenly felt a bit less
confident about his prospects of an easy win in the competition.
Most of the handlers here were older than his boy, and the dogs
were a mixed assortment of sleek and powerful animals especially
bred and well-trained for the tasks awaiting them.

One of them turned an almost too intelligent
face toward him. The android dog sent a silent signal using his
short range communication system, just in case. He received no
reply, but the real dog continued to eye him with a superior
air.

Just some kind of canine dominance thing,
then, MO-126 thought. He attempted to ignore the other dogs after
this while at the same time standing a little more erect and trying
to assume a nobler bearing.

The line crept slowly forward while vendors
with fruit and drink and even little pies and pastries attempted to
sell their comestibles to those waiting. They were having more
success than the android dog expected. Gumper even eventually broke
down and bought a couple of ripe redfruit for himself and
Kolby.

Three smiling monks with wrinkled faces and
smooth, pastel robes awaited them when they reached the front of
the line.

“What are the names of the contestants?” one
of them asked Gumper.

“Kolby,” Gumper said.

“Is that the handler or the dog?” the Tsong
monk asked.

“That’s the boy. He calls the dog
‘Doggy.’”

“Doggy, I see.” The monk provided no
indication that he found this especially amusing because his smile
did not change. MO-126 considered it possible that the monks’
ever-present smiles indicated that they found everything
amusing.

The monk wrote the names on a sheet of
parchment, which Kolby stared at with amazement. The boy knew about
writing, of course, but his grasp of the subject was only slightly
better than the one he held on general relativity or quantum
mechanics.

“And the name of the village Kobly and Doggy
are from?” the Listener asked.

This posed a tougher question and Gumper
paused before he could come up with an answer. Place names were of
little use to people who seldom traveled.

“Miston,” Gumper eventually said.

“Really?” Kolby asked him.

“Yeah. Can’t say I know why.”

Neither did the android dog. Human names for
places, and even for most other things, seemed pretty arbitrary to
him, but the monk dutifully wrote it next to their names.

“Age of dog and handler?” he asked.

“Kolby is, um, let me see….”

“Thirteen years,” the boy said. He might not
know much about letters, but he could make his way around numbers
as long as they didn’t get too demanding. He could count eggs and
even do simple addition and subtraction, provided no one confused
him by pointing it out. He could tell if sheep were missing or add
lambs to know how many were born. Sometimes this involved the
assistance of fingers as counters, but he could do it.

“And the dog?”

Fifteen thousand, four hundred and fifty in
human years, MO-126 thought, which reminded him that he had not
visited a hub terminal in a while and probably should go in for a
routine checkup some day. Those he visited in the past remained
operational, and the maintenance bays and their automated
diagnostic tables still functioned. The hub terminals did not
require oversight by the PM, which apparently burned itself out
over a thousand years ago, so they should continue to be of use for
many years to come. Corporation technology was pretty durable.

“Um, I’m not sure,” Kolby said. “He was
grown when I found him. I’d guess about five or maybe seven.”

That reminded MO-126 of something else, but
that decision could be put off for now.

“I’ll put down six,” the monk said. “How
does that sound?”

“About right, I suppose.”

“The entrance fee is ten copper coins,” the
monk reminded them.

Gumper handed them over.

“The contest begins tomorrow at noon. Be at
the field at sunrise and you’ll be shown the course, given
instructions, and told where you are in the lineup.” He pointed to
a large, cream colored marquee tent in the distance. “A communal
tent is available for you to sleep in tonight, if you wish, or you
can set up your own tent outside. Do you have any questions?”

Neither of them did, and they went to the
campground to find a spot. They brought their own tent, a borrowed
one anyway, which they slept in the night before on their way here.
It was intended to accommodate two people, but it was big enough
for two people and a well-behaved dog. MO-126 normally slept with
Kolby now, and last night was no different. He himself didn’t need
to sleep, but he enjoyed the downtime and used it to relax and for
quiet contemplation.

Several people and almost as many dogs
wandered about the competitors’ campground already, erecting tents,
cooking meals, and talking. The monastery complex itself stood on a
low hill about a quarter of mile away. The oldest of these stone
buildings were built only a handful of centuries ago, but the
people here probably regarded them as ancient. The vineyards,
pastures, fields and gardens surrounding them were enough to
sustain the monks, but nothing more. They did not produce a surplus
to sell to meet material needs, of which they apparently had few
other than a new roof once in a while.

Gumper quickly found a vacant flat spot not
far from a well and began erecting the tent.

“Once we get this up to claim our spot, we
can go see more of that fair they have,” he said.

Kolby helped with the tent, and then man,
boy, and dog went to explore the fair. They found many different
foods on offer, and all sorts of games, which to the android dog’s
eye seemed especially difficult to win. There were ostensible
fortunetellers, herbalists who claimed miraculous curative powers
for the contents of their jars and bottles, minstrels of varying
skill, magic acts, jugglers, and storytellers. MO-126 sent a signal
just in case any of them were NASH androids, but he received no
replies. He thought something like this might attract any in the
area. Perhaps there were none.

Gumper, due to his frugal nature, and Kolby
because of his lack of money, avoided most of the places where the
main business, like most businesses, was to transfer coins from the
purses of the customers to the pockets of stall owners. They did
spend some time later that night at the campsite’s bonfire, talking
with a few of the other contestants. They knew no more about
tomorrow’s event than the android dog’s humans did.

Early the next day, the competitors met near
a fenced area encompassing about four acres. Inside it were three
pairs of panels rather like short lengths of fence, a pen, and a
herd of a dozen sheep. Three monks outside explained the rules.
MO-126 listened intently and realized this would not be as simple
as he thought. He felt certain he could complete the tasks, but he
was not so sure he could do them better than the others. Several
men and a couple of women with their dogs appeared quite confident
as a monk described the course to them. Because of the number of
contestants, the trials would take place over three days. The team
of Kolby and Doggy would be the final competitors on day three.

The monks walked them through the course,
showed them the post where the handler would stand, the place where
the sheep would be at the start of the trial, the panels through
which they must be herded, and the pen where they must be at the
end. He held up a glass timer filled with fine sand and tipped
it.

“This is how long you have to complete the
course. Points are not given for speed, but no points will be
awarded if all sheep are not in the pen by the time the last of the
sand reaches the bottom of this glass.”